


The Bull and mi'lady

by sassylorastyrell



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 13:39:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7620385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassylorastyrell/pseuds/sassylorastyrell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically all of my Gendry x Arya prompts from tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bull and mi'lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: After killing Walder Frey, Arya finds the Brotherhood where Gendry is a knight. The meeting is happy and awkward at the same time because there's a weird feeling there. They all have dinner by the fire while Gendry and Arya can't take her eyes off each other. After that when they're alone, Gendry tells Arya that he has never stopped thinking about her and somehow from there they end up spending the night together with the promise of never been apart ever again.

“Shouldn’t we be stopping for the night?”

Arya bit her lip to stop from yelling at her uncle in frustration. Ever since she freed him from the Frey’s dungeons, he would start asking this question at around noon each day.

Instead of yelling though Arya instead sighed, reminded herself that she was half-Tully and their words are _Family_ , Duty, Honor, and prepared to explain to her uncle once again that no, they would stop once the sun actually set.

Unfortunately, Arya had no such chance. Seemingly from out of nowhere, their path was blocked by bandits.

“Seven hells,” she cursed under her breath, pulling her horse to a stop and laying a hand at Needle’s hilt.

She should have heard them coming, most likely would have if she had been on her own, but since joining with Edmure and hearing that her brother and sister had retaken Winterfell, Arya Stark was no longer the wary lone wolf she had been, and had been much too preoccupied with rejoining her pack.

However, her hand wavers above Needle when she sees the robbers’ faces.

“Milady, milord, this is a robbery,” Anguy declares.

The corner of Arya’s mouth twitches up into a small smile.

“Is that anyway to treat an old friend, Anguy?” she declares, her uncle looking over at her in shock.

* * *

Gendry had to admit he didn’t even recognize her, not at first. The last time he saw her, she had been a scrawny, little thing with her hair shorn short. It’s longer now, nearly past her shoulders and though she is still slight, she is a woman grown.

Gendry blushed and ducked his head, silently praying that she didn’t notice him for some reason.

“Arya?” Anguy asked in astonishment. “Well, if it isn’t the little lady herself! And all grown up now too. Who’s this then? Last we saw you were joined up with the Hound.”

“Killed the Hound,” she sniped back. “And that was long ago. This is my Uncle Edmure Tully, Lord of Riverrun.”  
“Aye, we’ve met before,” Tom commented, performing a mocking little bow before him.

Lord Edmure squinted his eyes unsurely before realization spread across his face.

You were that horrid bard that performed for Jaime Lannister in front of me.

“Had to keep an eye on thing over at Riverrun, didn’t I?” Tom answered unapologetically. “Boss’s orders.”

“Why would Beric order you to do that?” Arya asked.

Tom had the decency to look shamefaced at that. He had only returned to their little faction of the brotherhood after a particularly brutal lynching by Lady Stoneheart, when his heart could no longer stomach the sheer violence of it all.

Gendry looked at Arya and swiftly decided she didn’t need the pain of knowing what her mother had become, not yet. Something in her eyes told him she’d seen enough of the world to hate.

“We no longer serve Beric, milady,” he answered before Tom could speak. “Tom spoke in jest.”

Arya turned her eyes to him then and as they filled with recognition Gendry felt every breath leave his body. A smile flickered across her face.

“Gendry!” she cried in delight, before quickly turning to a scowl. “What did I tell you about calling me, milady?”

Gendry could do nothing but laugh.

They later took Arya and her Uncle back to their campsite for the night, promising them fresh provisions for their journey, wherever that may be. He didn’t talk to her yet, not truly, though he caught her eyes often enough to know that a reunion was in order on both their sides.

Instead though, Ned Dayne had quickly grabbed her ear, embracing her as an old friend before animatedly catching her up on everything the Brotherhood had been up to since she’d left. Though he did not mention the Lady, it seemed the men had clearly understood the message in Gendry’s omission.

He couldn’t very well take his eyes off of her all throughout dinner. She’d changed so much and yet so little.

It was still the same bawdy laugh and smile that accompanied Anguy’s foolish jests, and the same ferocity flashed in her grey eyes.

Yet there was also a wariness in her eyes, as if she was ever expecting an attack. He saw the way she eyed their campsite as soon as she entered measuring up their weapons and finding the easiest way to make an escape.

It hurt his heart to make him think what she’d been through to make her so distrustful of her friends.

Arya caught him staring from across the campfire and she stared right back, almost like a challenge.

Gendry looked away first.

After they’re done, he offered to go chop firewood. He really should have known she would follow him, but her footsteps were so light that he didn’t even realize she was there until he turned around and saw her there.

“Arya,” Gendry gasped, dropping half the firewood in his arms. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she answered, coming down into the small gully outside camp until she stood before him.

Gendry scoffed.

“How could I be avoiding you, you’ve only been back a few hours,” he said.

“We used to be friends,” Arya cut back. “You are one of the few friends I have left but you haven’t said a word to me since back on the road.”

Gendry swallowed hard. He could see the hurt in her eyes, though she attempted to hide it.

“I didn’t know what to say,” he answered, nervous as a green boy. “I wondered every day where you went, if you made it back to your family, if you were even alive…”

“You thought about me?” she asked surprised.  
Gendry laughed dryly.

“Of course I thought about you,” he answered. “You were the first friend I ever had, the first true friend. Though the girl I remember was a bit more of a scrappy little thing.”

Arya arched an eyebrow and in the moonlight he could swear he saw her smirk.

“You’re saying I’m not scrappy anymore?”

“I’m saying you look like a proper lady now,” he answered, even as he knew it would anger her. “Even if you don’t dress like one.”  
What he was not expecting was the abrupt punch that came up to hit him in the chest, so powerful it made stumble backward.

She’d gotten quicker since they last met.

“I’m no lady,” she replied.

He grabbed her wrist this time before her little fist could reach him. Wrist still in hand, he chuckled.

“I don’t know,” he said. “You sure fight like one.”

The kick to his shin did bring him down and they soon found themselves rolling in tall grass, until eventually they landed with Arya on top, his arms pinned at his sides.

“If I fight like a lady, then what does that make you for losing to me?” she asked bitingly.

Gendry was about to laugh again but the sound died in his throat, the moon shone down like a halo surrounding her hair, the same eerie silver-grey as her eyes.

She said she was no lady, but she was certainly the most beautiful woman Gendry had ever seen.

It was one terribly long moment later when they realized the awkward silence between them, and a certain other awkwardness that had come up.

Arya glanced down at his waist where her legs lay astride him.

Gendry was suddenly glad of the dark for covering up what was surely the reddest face he’d ever had.

Arya quickly scrambled off of him and they ended up sitting beside one another. Gendry pulled his legs to his belly, hoping to hide his – condition, and Arya followed suit.

“Do you know what that reminded me of?” she asked.

If it was even possible Gendry’s face grew redder.

“Please don’t say it…” he begged.

“When we wrestled at Lady Smallwood’s,” she said, taking him by surprise.

Gendry looked to her, his blue eyes flashing in the dark and a soft smile spread across his face.

“You were the most beautiful oak tree that ever was,” he teased.

She shoved him with her shoulder, though she smiled while doing so.

“I missed you, Gendry,” she said to him, though she refused to meet his eyes. “I haven’t really made any friends since we parted, not ones I could trust at least.”

Gendry couldn’t stop staring at her, her face looked far too old for a girl of—Gods, fourteen now.

“Where have you been, Arya?” he asked softly.

She finally looked at him then, and though he was not entirely sure he could almost swear he saw a tear in the corner of her eye, but the next moment it was gone.  
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she answered. “It was a time of nothing, and I was no one.”

Gendry bit his lip, and cautiously brought a hand up to her cheek. It was funny, he thought, she had lived a life so terribly hard, and yet she still had the fine skin of a noblewoman, however much she may deny it.

“You could never be no one to me,” he whispered.

Before he knew what was happening, her mouth was on his fast and furious. It was not the soft kiss of a lover, but rather rough and he found his teeth clanging against hers, before he drew away.

“Did I do it wrong?” she asked as soon as they parted.

Gendry didn’t know whether to laugh or kiss her again. For all her bravado and bravery, in some ways she was very much a girl of fourteen.

He ran a rough thumb over her cheek and he felt her face press into it just a bit. He then decided it would be more proper to show then tell.

He leaned in toward her, slower this time. This time when his mouth met hers it was softer, giving her a moment to adjust.

He swept his tongue against her bottom lip and with a slight hum of surprise she opened her mouth.

She was always a quick learner that Arya Stark though and soon she was leaning into him, her mouth a bit more firm and wanting against his.

He found himself leaning back in the grass and one of her arms came to box him in leaning over him. All too soon she ended the kiss and was sitting up.

Gendry was about to ask if he’d done something wrong when she began unlacing her tunic. He laid a gentle hand on the hand holding the ties to stop her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

“I’m taking my shirt off, stupid, what does it look like?” she answered.

“You don’t have to do that,” he assured her, pulling her hand away.

Her eyes flashed in defiance and he saw the wolf in her once more.

She leaned in and kissed him insistently, running a hand along his chest, before beginning to unlace his jerkin.

“Hey now,” he said, pushing her away. “I said you didn’t have to take off your shirt, not that _I_ would.”

Arya laughed and kissed him quickly.

“You don’t want to see my tits, fine,” she said, once again making Gendry blush. “But I have wanted to get personal with that chest since you were forging swords at Harrenhal.”

“Gods, Arya,” Gendry groaned. “You’re making this very difficult.”

She pushed him back insistently this time, climbing astride him as she had after their wrestling match and began unlacing his shirt once more.

“I understand, Ser Gendry,” she said mockingly. “that you wish to preserve my honor, and I’ll allow it.”

She leaned down to kiss his collarbone where his neck joined his chest and he was ashamed to say he growled just a bit, making Arya smirk once more.

“But I demand some bit of satisfaction,” she said. “Even if it’s just kissing you senseless, at least one of us has to be half-naked. It’s the rules of the Gods.”  
She said it so solemnly and so nobly, that Gendry simply shook his head grinning, and flipped them both over until she was beneath him, throwing his shirt halfway across the gully.

“As milady commands,” he joked.

Arya ran a finger through the dark hair at the base of his neck, pulling him down for a bruising kiss.

“I told you never to call me milady.”

* * *

They woke up in the morning mist, Gendry jolting upright, in turn awaking Arya.

She groaned, rubbing her eyes groggily.

“What are you doing, you bloody bull?” she grumbled. “I was sleeping.”

Gendry looked down at her smiling.  
“Sorry, milady,” he said, leaning down on one elbow to hover above her. “But not all of us can sleep so comfortably. Some of us had our shirts stolen and it’s bloody cold out here.”

“I can warm you up,” Arya teased, leaning up to meet him halfway and kissing him.

He was a soft kisser, for such an intimidating man. Arya found she could get used to this whole kissing business.

“The camp will be up soon,” he whispered as they parted.

Arya felt her heart plummet. It had been so easy to forget that they were just meeting at a crossroads in the woods and soon she would be going on her way with her uncle and he on his with the Brotherhood.

“Right,” she said, her face falling back into a familiar mask. “I suppose you’ll be journeying on then.”

Gendry looked at her in confusion, his dark brows furrowing.

“I suppose so,” he said, tracing a hand lightly through her hair. “Though I do wonder where we’re headed the North or Riverrun.”

Now it was Arya’s turn to look at him in confusion.

“What business does the Brotherhood have in the North?” she asked.

Gendry smiled and Arya felt her heart melt a little. Seven Hells, she was going soft.

“I have to help you win back your birthright don’t I?” he asked. “Reunite you with your family?”

“You’re coming with me?” A smile jumped unbidden to Arya’s face and she sat up in excitement.

“Arya,” Gendry chuckled. “I would follow you anywhere.”


End file.
